


To Talk

by an_abounding_sentiment



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, One Shot, This is pure angst, pierre anatole and nat are only mentioned, pierre was really shittty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_abounding_sentiment/pseuds/an_abounding_sentiment
Summary: When Marya hears about Anatole and Natasha's now failed relationship, she turns to Helene and demands answers. When things get heated, Marya doesn't look like herself anymore.
Relationships: Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin/Natalya "Natasha" Ilyinichna Rostova, Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina, Pyotr "Pierre" Kirillovich Bezukhov/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	To Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This gets very heavy, so please take care of yourselves!

Marya had yet to move away from her desk, cup grasped between her hands. Her eyes were closed; Helene could hear her soft breath from where she stood in the doorway and tilted her head slightly with concern. She still did not speak, brows furrowed, but took several steps further into the room, studying the woman she loved from a distance. Marya had always been a morning person. It wasn’t like her to sit idly without a cross-word or something of the like in front of her. Socks padded gently on the hardwood floor, a noise essentially muted through the way of which she glided across the space.

“Marya?” Helene sounded wary, and if Marya heard her, it did not look like it. Blue eyes stared off ahead of her, lips pressed firmly into a line. “Your coffee is getting cold,” She noted after a moment, gesturing loosely to the cup before wrapping her robe tighter around herself. Helene did not do well with silence, and definitely not when those she was in company of were upset. She continued to survey the redhead’s demeanor, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “You’re going to crack your teeth, clenching your jaw like that…”

Marya didn’t speak, but her eyes slowly dragged to find her girlfriend’s out of the corner of her eye. Helene offered a shy smile. One Marya did not reciprocate. Immediately, Helene felt the room shift. The redhead finally turned to fully look at her for several seconds, face the slightest more red than it usually was. Neither of them spoke. The silence in the room felt like more than quiet.

It felt like the end.

Maybe it would have been. Maybe it was about to be. The Kuragin knew the intent was there. Marya opened her mouth, but all that came out was a squeak. Marya always had words for everything, and her voice had done a lot of things, but such a small noise never came from her. Marya didn’t even know what words she wanted to say. Waking up to _those_ texts was not the way the morning was supposed to go. The redhead loved Sundays, and now she feared they’d be tainted forever with those words that appeared on her phone screen as she was preparing her coffee, and by the confusion in Helene’s eyes.

“You know what this is about,” Marya finally settled on, spoken through gritted teeth. There was not another word before Marya pulled out her chair with another force it almost toppled over, Helene taking several steps away, increasing the distance between them.

“No, I don’t,” The words shouldn’t have been as deafening as they were. Marya’s laughter was cold. A small, disbelieving shake of her head and the redhead continued to walk: straight past the brunette, who continued to stare at the retreating image in front of her like it was a car accident. Helene didn’t go after her immediately, frantically running through the possibilities of what she’d done to set Marya off. “I’m sorry?” She called out hesitantly, not knowing what else to do. She’d just grown to learn what happiness was; she did not want to lose it so soon.

“Are you?” Marya challenged, but turned around, and Helene’s shoulders loosened slightly.

“I…I think so?” Helene’s head was tilted again, taking a small step forward. “You-you didn’t tell me what I did wrong,” She furthered warily, leading Marya on with a duck of her head. Marya couldn’t decide if she was more upset the girl apologized despite not being sorry, or the fact there was a chance Helene genuinely did not know why Marya would be upset about it.

“Are you serious, Helene?” Marya asked stiffly, sticking her nose in the air. “You are going to try and convince me you do not know?” Her brows were furrowed in enraged disbelief. “You Kuragins are unbelievable,”

“Can you just say what I did, please?” Helene pleaded, taking another step forward and swallowing down her tears. She would not let Marya see her cry. Not over her, and not ever. But she was getting desperate, getting frantic. “Marya…” She sighed, trying to get the woman to look her in the eyes. The redhead looked at Helene for only a split second before scoffing in disgust, unlocking her phone. Blue eyes danced over the screen, a visible shudder running up her spine. Without another word, she tossed her phone onto the desk with a thud, gesturing to it.

“Explain that to me,” Now Helene wouldn’t look at her, appearing more like a scolded puppy than anything as she shuffled over, grabbing Marya’s phone in her hands. If Marya was looking at her, she would have been able to _see_ Helene’s heart plummet.

“Marya…” Helene glanced up at Marya, mouth slightly ajar as she shook her head slowly. “Marya, I had no idea,” She placed the phone down slowly, swallowing hard. The redheaded woman was all fire at this declaration, but her words turned ice cold.

“Are you really trying to lie to my _face,_ Elena?”

“No!” Helene yelped, but it was like she was quicksand: as soon as she began to fight she was bound to sink lower. Helene knew it-Marya and Pierre were alike in that way, and Helene was simply hoping to a god she didn’t believe in that the redhead wasn’t like him in any others. She had never seen Marya so angry before. “He never told me,”

“He tells you everything!” Marya threw her hands in the air, voicing erring towards yelling now.

“Not this!” Helene’s voice rose, too, taking the defensive. “If I knew about this, I would have told you!”

“Would you?” Marya sneered, “Because you _didn’t!_ ” _You betrayed me._ Marya was breathing hard. She tried to keep herself in order. She tried to be calm, and she tried to be forgiving, but it was very hard when Helene would not even admit she knew of Anatole’s sexcapades, and certainly not apologize. “How could you be so…so…” Marya didn’t even know the words she was searching for. How could she live with, kiss, and convince Marya she loved her when she allowed her brother to break Natasha’s heart. “So _heartless_?” She finally settled on.

“Marya what the hell do I have to do to convince you I didn’t know about this?!” Helene all but yelped, fists clenched at her sides. “After all this-“ She gestured between them erratically, “You still can’t trust me?!”

“Apparently not!” Both of their words became jagged. Marya had known yelling since being young: a booming voice the reason no one ever messed with the loner as a child. The reason she got good grades, the reason people opted not to test her. No one tested her except Natasha, and that was all in good fun. No one had ever tested her-twisted her trust-like Helene Kuragin just did.

“You’re just pulling shit out of the air!” Helene screamed back, because while Marya had been trained to use her voice, Helene had been trained to use it only to fight. She fought because Pierre sober only took a little pushback to subdue. Her mother gave up bickering when her daughter raised her voice, shifting from words to looks of disapproval. And lord knew Anatole only listened if you were loud enough to be heard over the elevator music playing in his head. “Why would Anatole ever tell me he was cheating on Natasha?! He knows I would tell you!”

“You didn’t!” Marya protested at the same volume, even louder and striding forward.

“Because for fuck’s sake, I didn’t know!” Helene shrieked, taking the first thing on the nearest surface she saw and hurling it at the ground. “For fucking hell’s sake, Pierre!” The redhead didn’t yell back, staring. Staring at the girl with wet eyes and heaving chest.

The world stopped spinning.

Neither of them spoke.

“I said I didn’t know!” Helene screamed into the silence, tugging her fingers through her hair. Marya swallowed hard, resting one hand over her mouth as she watched Helene’s eyes dart down to her own phone on the ground, pieces of the screen scattered. “I-I-“ Marya took a step forward, and Helene took the same one back: a dance she’d perfected, but even then always lost. “I-I’m sorry, okay? I-I’m sorry,” She whispered down towards the ground. “Please. I didn’t mean t-to yell at-I said I’m sorry,”

“Helene-” Her hands went over her ears, shying away slightly. Marya put her lip between her teeth, watching the girl’s world fall apart right in front of her eyes. “Helene,” The redhead sighed, and Marya very slowly began walking towards the phone to pick it up, trying not to spook the woman she loved so dearly.

Her back was pinned against the wall, breaths picking up to the point where her chest began to ache. There was a terrifying, long moment where her eyes went to the wall. She didn’t recognize it. She didn’t recognize the floor, or the phone on the ground. She only recognized the voice, and it wasn’t Marya’s. She didn’t even realize she’d lowered herself to the ground against the wall, tears delicately falling down her cheeks

Marya took her steps slowly and as lightly as possible, yet she watched as the woman who she loved for years looked terrified beyond what Marya could ever prepare for. The redhead began to crouch in slow motion: anything to make it so Helene wouldn’t flinch at her. “Helene, hey,” Helene’s heartbeat pounded in her ears loud enough she couldn’t hear what the redhead was saying, only saw that a hand moved and jerked away, feeling a harsh sting on the side of her head that somehow seemed to snap her back into reality just the slightest bit.

“Shit, easy,” Marya moved away, eyes wide. Her girlfriend just flinched away from her so hard she hit her own head into the wall, for God’s sake.

“Please d-don’t h-hurt,” Helene stammered through teeth gritted in pain, trembling. She could only see the figure of the drunken man looming over her, bottle held tauntingly by the neck overhead; she could see his reflection in the shards of glass from her phone screen. Could see his every move, could see him coming closer, hearing the roaring in her ears-

“You’re fine. I’m not going to hurt you, Sunshine,” _Sunshine._ She knew that name. Helene went completely rigid. Marya. It was Marya. Marya. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Marya cooed, trying to keep Helene at bay to prevent her from hurting herself further. At the moment, she was unsure of if the girl going completely still was a good thing or the opposite. She was mouthing something, over and over again. Maybe it was her name, maybe it was pleas to not strike her.

But coming closer very, very slowly, the words she heard broke her heart: _Please help me. Marya, make him stop._

“Love, I’m right here,” Marya’s touch was tender, very slowly extending her hand to touch Helene’s knee. “It’s okay, Sunshine. It’s alright,” The redhead cycled through assurances over and over, trying to block out whatever she could in the horrors of Helene’s mind. “It’s me. It’s Marya. I’m right here, love,” Marya opened her mouth to murmur another assurance, but was cut off when Helene all but pounced into her, arms wrapped tightly around Marya’s neck, face buried in her chest. “Yeah… yeah, I’m right here,” Still, Helene did not cry, though she was shaking uncontrollably, trying to latch and cling onto Marya as much as humanly possible.

Marya just held her tight. Let the girl breathe in the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. Let her exist practically attached to her, curled into her lap. “We’re at home, Helene,” She reminded the girl, gently pressing her lips into Helene’s hair. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that before Helene’s screen-what was left of it-lit up with a text. _From: Brother (Idiot)_ The redhead tried to very subtly shift her position as to not disturb Helene’s peace and still get a look at what it said.

_‘Hey, so lena…_ another one appeared on the screen. _I have a confession to tell you. Call me? Bc I may or may not have not told you very important info hahahahafuckhelpme’_

Marya squeezed her eyes shut. Just her luck. Just Helene’s.

“Lena, my love, I will never hurt you,” Marya whispered into her hair, feeling fingers curl around the fabric of her sweater. “ _He_ will never hurt you again,” The redhead couldn’t even bring herself to say her former best friend’s name. “Pick your head up for me?” Helene shook her head. “Come on, please? I got you,”

Helene opened teary eyes to stare down at the floors. The floors that now looked familiar again. Shaking hands ran over the flooring, then over Marya’s legs. “See, you know where this is,”

“This is home,” Helene murmured, a small smile on her face. _She_ was home.

They could have their apologies later, Marya decided in that moment. Because right now they didn’t need to talk about Natasha. They didn’t need to talk about Anatole. They didn’t need to talk about anything. They just needed each other.


End file.
